


Just a Scratch

by the_constant_reader



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, F/M, Fluff, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15071987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_constant_reader/pseuds/the_constant_reader
Summary: Oh, but it's just a scratch, isn't it? Certainly nothing to get worked up over.Your mother always said that stubborn streak would land you in trouble one day. One whole band of worried dwarves'-worth.





	1. The Aftermath

First, the _snick_ of a belt strap as it's yanked through its buckle. Then, a calloused, warm hand across your face. And there, like always, is Dwalin, his usually furious face creased with worry.

'Just keep your eyes open for me, there's a good lad. You're bleeding, but I can't tell where from yet.'

He works his way down your legs, loosening your armour away from a body so engulfed in hot, white pain it feels almost detached from your head.

_Armour. Then mail. Then clothing. Then-_

Lips glued together with sweat, orc blood and Mahal-knows-what-else, you attempt to sit up in protest. Dwalin plants a hand firmly into your chest, pushing you back down to the floor.

'You've got to stay put, just until I get this off you.'

You manage to catch a burly arm mid-pull. Dwalin looks up.

'Water?' you croak.

His brow softens. 'Aye, just a tic.'

Your head thumps back down. As the clinks of his own armour fade from you, you take stock of your surroundings through grit-coated eyes. A vaulted ceiling. A cold stone floor. The hum of thousands of soldiers in agony; elf, man and dwarf alike twisting their shrieks into one awful cacophony. Just as the fuzziness around your vision begins to subside Dwalin's purposeful steps grow closer. And then, a hand gingerly cradling your head, another bringing a damp waterskin to your lips. Cool, sweet water fills your mouth as you gulp swiftly, greedily.

Dwalin pulls the empty skin away. 'Let's get the rest of this off, hey?'

'Dwalin, it's just a flesh wound. Please.' Again, you move to sit, and again, his huge hand forces you back.

'Don't be daft. You'd faint again if you saw how much blood's coming out of you.'

You feel the cool air of the hall through the thin of your clothes as Dwalin pulls first your plate armour then your mail away. Your tunic, damp with blood against your belly, is lifted to your armpits. 

'Och, lad, you didn't tell me you were already hurt. What are these bandages about your chest?'

'Dwalin-'

'They're soaked, anyway. You must have been stabbed near your armpit. I'll have to get them off you.'

Your heart almost halts in your chest as he peels layer after layer away from you. Then, silence. You raise your head as quickly as you dare, finding yourself looking him square in the face.

'How the fuck did you manage to keep this from us? More than that, how could I have been so blind? For Mahal's sake, lad.' He stops. 'Well, lass, now.'

'Dwalin, I'm sorry, I-'

A deep sigh. 'There's no time. Let's get you cleaned up, and we'll talk about this later.'

You flop back down, tears welling in your eyes.


	2. Plenty of Bed Rest

'You haven't told them yet, have you?'

The great hall had been converted into a proper healing ward, and you were propped up on a cot. Though a night's rest had cleared your head, you didn't know if the same could be said for Dwalin's.

He looks up at you from his perch at the foot of the bed. 'No, not yet. To tell the truth, I don't really know how to. They're all off attending to their own matters.'

'Do you know if any of them were hurt?'

'Aye, Thorin and the two boys were. I've only heard through messengers though - I've not seen any of them. We're the only two that managed to stick together in all that chaos.'

You reach out half-heartedly to touch his hand. He pulls away at first, then sighs and grips your fingers in his. 'I'm sure you feel just as badly as I do.'

'Well, yes, but-'

'Hm?'

'There's a strange sense of relief now. Knowing that my secret is not solely my own anymore. You honestly never suspected? None of you did?'

'I've been thinking back on these past few months all morning. Once I collect all the little instances where something seemed, I don't know-'

'Off?'

'Yeah, perhaps. Once I gathered all those, then things started to make sense. As for the others, apart from Thorin maybe, the lot of them are so bloody oblivious I wouldn't be surprised if they hadn't noticed a thing.'

'That gives me a little hope.'

He squeezes your hand a little tighter, kindly.

'Do you feel betrayed?'

'Betrayed is a little melodramatic. Misled, though, yes. But you're still the same person inside. You're still my friend.'

You smile at that. 'Oh, don't make me cry again.'

'I don't doubt there'll be many more tears shed before this day is through.'

 

* * *

 

The nurses had deemed you fit enough to return to your quarters, plenty of bed rest prescribed. Dwalin had, of course, accompanied.

'I'll be fine for the moment, Dwalin. Why don't you go and get something to eat? Have you slept at all since yesterday?'

'I've had a few kips here and there, don't you worry. I'm getting some food sent up here as well.'

'Any word on the rest of the Company?'

'Everyone's being looked after, as far as I can tell. Bofur and Gloin were both hurt, but they're being taken care of. Oh, shit, you're bleeding again.'

You look down at your shoulder, and sure enough, a bright patch of fresh blood is seeping through the linen.

'I knew those nurses hadn't bandaged you up tightly enough.' He swiftly pulls your tunic up and over your head before unravelling the bandage looped around your shoulder. Taking a damp cloth from a bowl on the bedside table, he dabs gently at the wound. He apologises as you wince inadvertently.

'You don't need to do this, you know. You fought just as hard as anybody else out there, and now you're forced to care for my sorry arse.' You wince again as he pulls the whole works snug.

'Please, just let me do my job.' He sits back down. 'I know you feel guilty, but that shouldn't get in the way of more practical matters.'

You sigh. 'You're right.'

'Would it help if we talked a bit more about it? I feel as though it's this great, unspoken cloud just hanging over our heads.'

'Well, you're not wrong there.' You bite your lip.

'I'll start then. How much of your story is true?'

'Everything, pretty much. The only real difference is that I'm the daughter of a wretch and a drunk, not the son.'

'Had you disguised yourself as a boy right from when you escaped him?'

'Aye. I felt that I had to. The only way anyone will teach you to fight is if you're a boy.'

'Were you ever found out by anyone?'

'Yes. I had to kill them, of course.'

His eyes widen. 'Shit, really?'

'No, Dwalin, of course not. There were a few close calls, but I managed to keep my head down.'

'I mean, you're hard, but you're not that hard. I suppose that's what's changed my perception of you the most, really. Looking back now, you've done a lot more than I ever thought a girl could do. You've proven me so wrong.'

'Stubbornness has always been part of me, I guess. Did you never notice I wasn't as strong, or as fit as any of you lot? Well, apart from Bombur maybe.'

A chuckle. 'I just chalked it up to you being young, nothing else.'

'When do you think we should tell the others?'

Dwalin pauses. 'Let's sit on this, at least for a few days. Give Erebor time to settle.'

 


	3. An Announcement

_Three days later._

'I told those bastards noon! It's nearly one!'

'Dwalin, it's fine. Stop pacing. You're giving me a headache.'

The Company's voices round the corner before they do. Thorin leads the pack, along with his two nephews. They look a little worse for wear, with Thorin possessing a definite limp, but there's a lightness in their eyes you haven't seen for a long time. Bilbo spots you from the centre of the group, and sprints ahead to wrap you in a warm embrace.

'Watch the shoulder there, hobbit,' you joke.

'Oh, it's so wonderful to see you! You're still badly hurt?'

'Just a little sore.' You spy Bofur grinning at the pair of you, and touch Bilbo's arm before moving over to him. 'I heard you were hurt too. Are you well?'

'Aye, well enough, lad. Better now that I've seen you and Dwalin. I swear, I doubted we would get the group together in one room again, we were all so busy. How did you manage it?'

'I left the threats to Dwalin. I didn't want to ask questions.'

Bofur laughs and squeezes your good shoulder. You move through the group, sharing jokes until you reach Thorin, who's engaged in stern conversation with Dwalin.

_When is he ever not in a stern conversation, though?_

'Ah, young master. It's so good to see you looking well. Dwalin's taken good care of you, then?'

'Yes, Thorin. Above and beyond.'

'He's just been telling me that you have something to say to the group.'

'That I do.'

Thorin nods, and moves to stand on a chair, braced by Dwalin's shoulder. He purses his lips, and a shrill whistle cuts across the room.

'My friends! If I could have your attention, please.'

The dwarves' joyful ruckus fades, and Dwalin helps you up onto another chair. You take a moment to steel yourself, the thump of blood in your ears scattering your carefully gathered thoughts. Clasping your hands tightly to ease their fluttering, you begin to speak.

'My dear Company. Not one of us would disagree that we've been through much together, nor that we've not fought valiantly to reclaim what is rightfully ours. I see myself as a companion and friend to every one of you, and I hope you feel the same way. It is this friendship that has driven me to say what I need to today. I'm not saying this will be easy to swallow, but I love you all as brothers, and it would be deeply unjust of me to keep this from you.'

You can feel Dwalin's eyes in particular upon you. Encouraging, soft.

'My past is known well to all of you. I have made it a policy to never keep anything secret. Well, apart from this-' you take one last gathering breath, 'I am not a man. I am a woman.'

The Company falls utterly silent.

'Please, allow me to say one more thing. I ran from my home as a means of self-preservation, and I disguised my gender for the same reason. I never meant to deceive, only to help. I hope for your forgiveness, though I know I don't deserve it.'

Still, silence. You can pretty well hear their jaws  _thunk_ to the floor.

'Somebody needs to say something,' says Dwalin, 'please.'

'So that's why you never washed with us!' comes Kili.

'Aye, or dressed!'

'Or pissed!'

'It all makes sense!'

And... the dwarves are off. They're shocked, yes, as you suspected. But not angry. More...  _curious_. Incredulous. Thorin and Dwalin help you down from your makeshift podium.

'I bet that wasn't the reaction you were expecting,' chuckles Thorin. 'I know it certainly wasn't mine.'

You whip about to face Dwalin. 'You told Thorin! How long ago?!'

'I had to, lass. He's our king, and my cousin. I told him the night after the battle.'

'But you told me he was injured!'

'His body, yes. Not his ears.'

'That was one secret I struggled to keep under my hat, I can tell you,' says Thorin. He faces the group once more. 'Could I say something, please?'

The dwarves hush under the rumble of his voice.

'I know this comes as a shock. But now is not the time for carrying on. She is still a member of our Company. Her valiance and her sacrifices cannot be forgotten. None of what she means to us has changed. Her name is Y/N, and I am proud to call her one of us.'

'Aye, Thorin's right,' says Balin. 'In all my years, I've never seen one so young and yet so brave. She ought to be applauded, not dissected.'

'Hear hear!' 

Dwalin loops a comforting arm loosely around your shoulders. 'There'll be one hell of a feast tonight, let me tell you.'


	4. After the Feast

Dwalin had been right. That night, the newly warmed halls of Erebor had seen a feast more raucous, more joyful than any that had gone before. Dwarves, men and elves toasted the Company as one, had danced so that their footsteps had rumbled down into the deep, had drunk more than the city's cellars had seemed to hold.

'That can't all have been for me,' you said to Dwalin as you swayed back to your quarters along with the rest of your Company.

'No, of course not. The reclamation of Erebor has been a long time coming, as I'm sure you know.'

'I'm just glad I was there to see it. It scarcely feels real - I have to keep pinching myself.'

'Aye, well, I'll tell you what - that damned Elvish wine was real enough. I'm going to need another three days to sleep off what's coming for me.'

You laugh at that, slowing as you reach your door. 'I'll see you, Dwalin.'

He grabs your arm just as you turn the handle. 'Could I come in for a tic?'

_Strange._

'Yeah, if you want.' A rush of warmth comes at the pair of you as you swing the door open fully. A cheerful fire blazes in the corner, casting the room with a soft glow. 

'Here, lass, sit down a minute.' You comply. 'There's something that I've been meaning to say to you. It's been swirling about in my head since you were cut down during the battle.'

You stare into his eyes. He opens his mouth again, formulating.

'Well, if I'm perfectly honest, I suppose it's been in my head for a bit longer than that.'

'What are you trying to say?'

'Ah, hell, Y/N. I think I love you.'

Now, you know that you're no simpering coquette. You're not even a romantic, really - time and hardship had knocked that girlish streak right out of you. And yet, you swear you can feel time slow just as your heartbeat quickens.

Dwalin holds a hand up just as you open your mouth to speak. 'Just let me get this out. Then you can slap me, or throw me out or whatever. Even when I thought you were a boy I was...  _drawn_  to you. I don't know how it is for men, but that sort of thing is unimaginably taboo for us dwarves. And so I pushed it down, rationalised it whatever way I could. Do you remember how you said that you felt relieved when I found you out? How a weight had been lifted?'

'Yes, of course. I still feel that way.'

'I felt - and feel - the same. Even if it's unrequited, I can love without fear of exile. I believe now I would've resigned myself to it even if you had been a boy. I would've had to. But I could never have acted on it.'

'I'm sort of... lost for words.'

'Aye, and rightly so. I'll leave. I've said my piece.' You grasp his hand, halting him as he rises.

'I'll never understand you dwarves, I swear to Mahal. You're just going to drop this on me, and then turn and walk away? I'm a person, not some passive _thing_ here to absorb your problems without any consequences.' Dwalin sits back down, resting his elbows on his knees.

'I just don't want you to feel that I've, I don't know, taken advantage of you.'

'Why would you think that? You've done more and been more than I can say. I'm unspeakably grateful, not angry.'

'Okay, so I have the emotional intelligence of a lump of wood then.'

You laugh. 'I never said that. You can just be a little... oblivious.'

'Well, then, if I'm oblivious, do you or do you not share my feelings?' You hesitate, and his face falls. 'I'm going, Y/N. I can't pull you down into my quagmire. It's not right.'

'I only stopped to catch my breath, Dwalin. It's a lot to take in, just as it's a lot, I'm sure, for you to get off your chest.' You take his hand once more. 'Your feelings are requited. I'm not sure just  _how_ I know, but I do. I love you, you great lump of a dwarf. I think I always have.' 

Without another word, Dwalin crouches by your side and takes your face gently between his palms. He brushes his lips softly against yours, the rough of his beard scratching you as you reciprocate, delving deeper. His hands slide to clasp your waist as he pulls you close. Finally, you break apart.

'I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, am I?'

A soft chuckle. Dwalin rests his forehead against yours.

 

* * *

 

'Is this okay, lass? I'm not moving too fast for you?'

'Dwalin, I've been waiting for this pretty much since that night with the Wood-elves.'

'I just want to be sure. You've never done anything like this before, have you?'

You stop fumbling with his jerkin buttons and look up into his face from your position on the floor. 'No, not really.' 

Dwalin takes your now-still hands and clasps them in his lap. He sighs. 'Please don't feel that I'm pressuring you. Believe me, Y/N, I want to do all manner of unspeakable things to you before the night is out. But you're so young. It's not right.'

You rise to your knees. 'For something so wrong, Dwalin, this feels very, very right. I'm young, yes. But I've seen a lot. I've had to  _be_ a lot. For once, I just want to be a girl. I want to be held. I want to hold.'

You crane upwards to catch his mouth in a kiss. Dwalin grabs your shoulders fiercely, pulling you to your feet as he stands and kicks the armchair back to send it skittering across the floor. He releases you and deftly flicks open the last of his buttons, shrugging the jerkin off his shoulders. You stand face-to-face.

'I know you're trying to be romantic here love, but I'm going to need help wrestling my way out of this damned dress.'

'Ever the practical one, aren't you? Here, turn around for me.' You turn, and Dwalin hooks his fingers into the laces of the bodice. He wrests it open, easing it out and away from you before turning you about once more. You don't quite know how he knew your corset would be laced in the front, but you decide not to question it. The tiny cords prove more difficult for his thick fingers, but he manages to wiggle you out.

'You've done this before?'

'Aye, once or twice.'

 _Is he blushing?_ Can _dwarves even blush?_

Soon enough, the pair of you are equally undressed and as bashful as teenagers. Dwalin lets his leggings drop to the floor, sending them the same way as the armchair. You follow suit with your stockings.

'What do you say, lass? On the count of three?'

You smile and slip your shift down off your shoulders. 'To hell with it.' Stepping out of the pool of fabric, you boldly pull Dwalin's tunic over his head. He takes you by your shoulders once more.

'Fuck, you're beautiful,' he breathes. You drink his body in just as greedily. Impossibly broad shoulders feeding into a thickly muscled chest. Taut stomach. Narrow, tapering hips. Powerful thighs.

_Skull-crushing thighs._

One day, you will trace his tattoos with your fingers, your lips, your tongue. For now, you're content to call him yours.

'Touch me, Dwalin. Anywhere.'

He slides a subtly shaking hand over your chest to catch and cup a breast, dragging his thumb feather-light over your nipple. The other hand snakes around to squeeze at the flesh of your hip, digging into your backside. You inch closer, feeling his body tense as you allow your torso to collide with his. His hands move up to brace your chin as you're pulled into a kiss for the ages. Your tongues wrestle back and forth, and you swear you can almost feel yourself melt under his touch. The hardness of his cock, insistent, presses between your thighs. Lips still locked, you walk Dwalin backwards towards the bed, releasing as his knees buckle beneath him. He slides up the bed and you crawl after him, predatory.

_Wanted._

 Just as you're about to straddle him fully, Dwalin takes you and twists your body, trapping you beneath him. Pinning your arms firmly above your head, he kisses down your neck and between your breasts, suckling at each nipple in turn. You writhe and buck, but he holds you fast as his descent continues. You shift back up to rest against the headboard as your legs are spread and your knees are hooked over his shoulders.

'I don't think you know quite what you do to me, Y/N,' comes his breathless voice before he leans in to press a soft kiss to your clit. He spreads you open with his fingers, and your head drops back as you luxuriate under his mouth, his beautiful hands. You pull him harder in with a squeeze of your thighs before reaching down to twine your fingers into his hair. He looks up at you, his damned smirking mouth coated in slick.

'I'm glad that mouth is good for more than talk, dwarf.' His grin grows wider. His head drops back inwards. That smart, blasted tongue licks waves of pleasure into your sex, on and on until you feel on the verge of breaking in two. You pull on his hair, more sharply this time, and he lifts his head.

'Can I?'

'Of course.' You swap positions, sharing a kiss. Dwalin drops back against the headboard, knocking it into the wall behind. You sit back and consider him, if only for a moment.

'What are you thinking about?'

'How magnificent you are. How lucky I am.'

'I mean, that's a tad generous perhaps...'

'Are you serious? Have you never seen yourself?'

'Well, yeah, but magnificent is a litt-'

'Oh, just accept the compliment, you great oaf.' You take his legs between your own, feeling him shake with laughter. 'If you don't believe me, I'll show you.'

You run your hands over the vast expanse of his chest, revelling in the warm muscle, the contrast between taut, smooth skin and a personal history written in gnarled, faintly translucent scar tissue. He's huge, flawed, beautiful. You drop your head to take a flushed nipple between your teeth, biting harder as his breaths grow louder. Bites and kisses are littered down his exquisite stomach until you reach his cock. He senses your hesitation.

'You don't have to, love.'

'I want to.'

Taking the head carefully into your mouth, you grip the base of him, cradling his balls in your free hand. His immense thighs quake beneath you, and you slide down further to take more in, emboldened. There's a thrilling pressure at the back of your throat as you bob up and down, and you revel in his warmth, his smell, easing off as his hands slide into your hair.

'Any more of that and I'll be through before we've even started.' His face is flushed, and you feel a tingle of pride in your effect on him. He slides a hand to the small of your back, tracing the twin divots there with his thumb. The sweat of his forehead mingles with your own as he rests his head between your breasts. 'Just give me a second. Feel like I'm about to burst.'

You press a kiss to the top of his head. 'That makes two of us.'

It seems to you now that Dwalin contains a vulnerability previously unseen. A fearsome warrior, it strikes you how comfortable he seems cradled in the arms of another. Though you can hear his breathing slow, the thump of his heart rushes through him still.

'It's been a very long time since I've felt this alive.'

'What about when we were stuck in those barrels, hurtling downstream from hordes of elves? I felt pretty damn alive then.'

You laugh, the rumble of his voice tickling your chest. 'This is a different sort of alive. This is better.'

Dwalin turns his face upwards to plant a kiss firmly on your lips. 'Aye, much better.'

He slides his hands from the small of your back to your hips, angling his knees so that the hardness of his cock is dragged along your sex. With every minute movement your arousal grows, and you rise up on your knees to position the head at your entrance.

Dwalin looks at you one last time, gauging your reaction.

'Fuck me, Dwalin.'

His eyes glint and seem to darken, and your mouth is enveloped by his as he fucks into you with one great stroke, and you swear stars appear behind your eyelids as he fully sheaths himself, the base of him grinding into your clit. You feel his hands dig more firmly into your arse as he slams into you again, and you cry out in time with his moans. His thrusts become languorous and decadent just as quickly as they shift to fast and rough, and you let yourself flop back into his arms, riding the wave as it ebbs and flows. He tips you back until he's directly on top of you, using his new angle to rut you into the mattress. You feel liquified, every extremity crackling, red-hot.

You feel your climax fast approaching, trying to hang on and savour every last ounce of pleasure.

'Ah fuck, Y/N, I'm close.' His balls tighten beneath you, and you let go as he spills into you, mingling your cries of ecstasy with his. Lightning bolts burst through you, and you're helpless, caught in the throes of the unimaginable. Your cunt throbs and you're left in a delicious pool of agonised bliss, milking the last of his seed from him. The pair of you collapse, spent.

 

* * *

 

Blanketed in decadent afterglow and with Dwalin's chest your pillow, your lids begin to droop. The rumble of his voice, doubly delicious in intimacy, staves off sleep, but just barely.

'There's so much more I could say, but I'll stick to this - I love you. With all my heart.'

'And I you, Dwalin.'

You fall into a deep sleep, finally content. Whole.


End file.
